


Lost & Found

by arestorationofbalance



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: F/M, Horror, Masturbation, Psychological Horror, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Harassment, Stalking, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arestorationofbalance/pseuds/arestorationofbalance
Summary: Gotham City has a lot of things and is never short on urban legends. You thought the panty thief was just that- some city folklore to deter young women from leaving their garments unattended at the laundromat. You were wrong./ “I’d be careful if I were you,” he warned. “They say he loves a girl who’s careless.”
Relationships: Tim Drake & Reader, Tim Drake/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Lost & Found

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: this is more scary than sexy whoops so don’t read if you don’t like to be stressed out and terrified, sexual harassment, noncon, stalking, yandere!Tim Drake being gross, smut, adult language

Scoffing, you weren’t sure why a stupid memory like that came into your mind as you loaded more dirty laundry into the washer. You sighed. You knew you would be here for a couple more hours. Though you loved your one-bedroom condo, its only downside was the fact that there weren’t any laundry facilities on site. So each week with your bag of quarters and a duffle bag full of dirty clothes, you made your way to the dingy laundromat a block away from you.

You recalled your glory days at Gotham U, missing college more than ever as the weight and responsibility of adulthood dragged you down. You missed having the freedom of an adult but without the same amount of responsibility.

As you threw you underwear into the wash, you thought about a random conversation you had while drunk, trying to hook-up with that cute boy in your bio class. He ignored your advances as he rambled on and on about some stupid urban legend. There was some pervert who stole panties at laundromats, so you needed to be careful or try to do laundry at a friend’s house or something. You didn’t pay his story much attention. You wanted _him_ to take your panties off and didn’t care much for his urban legend.

“It’s an exaggeration,” you said finally giving up on the dream of being taken to bed by him, buzz quickly fading. “We live in a big city. This is the type of story that gets spread around ‘burbs cuz the only exciting thing to do is gossip and scare each other silly.”

“I’d be careful if I were you,” he warned. “They say he loves a girl who’s careless.”

* * *

You should have noticed the pair of eyes that followed you as you quickly stuffed your clean laundry into your bag. Your ear touched your shoulder with your phone in-between, talking to one of your friends from college. You found it crazy that no one you knew from college stayed in Gotham but you understood their reasons. Horrific crime rates and a shitty housing market drove others elsewhere. You were one of the lucky ones to find your gem of a condo nestled in-between an abandoned field and a bigger apartment complex. Most of your friends were split between Star City and Metropolis.

“You know, that dumb story about the panty thief popped up in my head today,” you mentioned. “Yeah, the one that –ugh what was his name again? I can’t believe I forgot. I had the hugest crush on him too! –but yeah, the one that he told me at the party. I honestly wish he would have straight up rejected me instead.”

A pair of blue eyes watched you unbeknownst to you, too wrapped up in trying to explain your memories to your friend.

“Ugh, still? No way, urban legends are so dumb. They’re just meant to exploit human fears and fascinations. I’m not afraid of some pervert. Hah, yeah I’m sure the thief would get a huge kick out of my,” and you straightened out a pair of your favorite cotton undies “ _very sexy_ underwear collection.”

As you walked out of the laundromat with your fresh clothes, so did someone else.

* * *

You reviewed the recording from earlier in the evening and wished you had the advanced technology or even just the funds to own a body cam like the police department. A part of you mused about how you could easily get one from a sketchy salesman closer to East End but you weren’t that desperate yet. Your cellphone’s recorder and camera were enough for now.

The recording was a bit muffled as you tried to be discreet. Though you were protected under New Jersey’s Wiretapping and Electronic Surveillance Act since you were a part of the conversation, you knew for a fact that any police officer still wouldn’t take kindly to you recording them without their consent. This conversation was harmless and meant to protect yourself but the GCPD was notorious for their corruption and laziness, so they didn’t need any further proof of that.

[ **Recording** : _Date_ : XX/XX/20 _Time_ : 17:56 _Location_ : Gotham Police Department, Station 83] 

> “Look, lady, quit getting your panties in a bunch,” the cop laughed to himself as if he was the wittiest man in the world. “You should be happy that you have a secret admirer.”
> 
> “You should feel flattered that someone’s sending you secret gifts. All women do is complain about a lack of romance and when we do it, you’re still bitching.”
> 
> “That’s not…” your voice trailed. “This isn’t some secret admirer. Their ‘gift’ is actually something they stole from me and hardly anyone knows where I live, so I don’t even know how they were able to return it…”
> 
> There was a rustling of papers and the sound of the officer clearing his throat.
> 
> “Come back when you have something more conclusive.”
> 
> You made an audible noise in your throat to show that you were disgruntled.
> 
> There was more scratching noises and the sound of objects being rustled through as the recording ended.

* * *

You looked back at the “gift from a secret admirer” that you received a day after you washed your clothes.

It was your underwear. It should have been clean and it probably still was. But the manila envelope it came in and the small, masculine scrawl that had it addressed to you made you doubt otherwise.

You were certain you didn’t leave anything behind in the dryer that day. You practically crawled into the giant mechanical drum to ensure nothing got left behind. You’ve lost too many single pairs of socks for you to not be diligent in gathering all of your garments.

But you were on the phone that day, you realized as your stomach sunk. Maybe you were a little careless. You definitely didn’t do a double sweep of the dryer’s contents before leaving the place, too caught up talking to your friend to be that thorough.

That left the question though of how the stranger knew that the pair belonged to you and how they knew your name.

Using a plastic bag to touch your garment, you laid it down side-by-side with the envelope along with a note of your own below the part that was addressed to you.

You snapped a picture.

[ **Photo** : _Date_ : XX/XX/20 _Time_ : 19:10 _Location_ : your living room] 

> Your panties laid next to the envelope with a scrawl of your writing below the part where the envelope had your name written. You placed it below your name to compare the two.
> 
> _ This isn’t my handwriting. _

* * *

All was quiet for the rest of the week. But in your paranoia, you kept on double-checking, triple-checking the locks of all your doors. You inspected the walls for any holes. The windows stayed sturdy when you tried to crack them or jostle them.

When you left your house, you used different routes every day in hopes that whoever was watching you wouldn’t find a pattern. You left and came home at odd hours.

It was exhausting but you needed to do what you thought was best to keep yourself safe. It was clear that the GCPD wouldn’t do anything until there was a close call or it was too late.

* * *

[ **Video** : _Date_ : ??/??/20 _Time Received_ : 21:56 _Location_ : ??]

> The video shows a zoomed in shot of a man with light skin and dark hair, based on the few strands that graze his cheek. His lips were a soft pink from what you could see of them.
> 
> There’s a cloth over his mouth and he inhaled from them deeply.
> 
> “Wish these were yours,” he whispered, voice low and husky with perversion.

You’re surprised at the sound and weren’t sure of what to think. It seemed like it could be his actual voice. There wasn’t a ring of it sounding robotic or modulated in any way.

Did he want to expose himself to you? Your brain tried to think if you knew anyone with a similar sounding voice but it came up with nothing. The voice did seem familiar though as if you heard it long ago.

> A wet tongue popped out to lick a stripe down the crotch. The muscle dragged up the fabric’s length with slow deliberation.
> 
> “I can’t wait to taste you.”

You exited out of the video quickly, feeling that sickly feeling in your stomach again. You clicked on the next attachment with dread but you knew you had to look at it.

[ **Photo** : _Date_ : ??/??/20 _Time Received_ : 21:56 _Location_ : the stairwell that connects the Gotham subway to street level, a few blocks from your job]

> An ass shot with your panties showing. You were wearing a dark colored dress so it either had to be taken on Monday or Thursday.

You zoomed in on your exposed cheeks. Pink. It was taken on Thursday.

You tried calling the number to see what would happen. The line wouldn’t connect. You searched it on Google. The number wasn’t associated with anyone or any business.

A wave of paranoia consumed you and swallowed you whole as anxious thoughts clouded your judgement. You thought you only had to record your interactions when you contacted the police or when your _admirer_ taunted you. But now they had your phone number and were sending you disgusting things. They knew how to contact you. They knew where you worked.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell someone. You already knew you couldn’t go to the authorities. You wanted some kind of help but knew that there wasn’t anyone you could turn to. It was obvious that the pervert had their eyes on you and they seemed to enjoy the fact that you knew it.

* * *

You couldn’t sleep. Not at home and not even for a quick cat nap at the office. Though your coworkers were kind this was something that you felt you couldn’t burden them with. You had no one else to turn to.

Figuring that staying at a hotel would be your safest option, you packed your bags for the weekend while you tried to think of what to do.

Once at your hotel which was across the city, a location that you thought to be a safe pick, you unpacked.

You stared at the bed with a sudden longing. Your nights have been restless the past two weeks. If you did sleep, you woke up suddenly and with a jolt from nightmares about your admirer or about the story of the panty thief.

The two didn’t matter as you sunk into the bed, the sheets rough and smelling unfamiliar. You wished you could be in the plush mattress of your bed and sink into the spots that you slept in the most. This was fine for now though.

* * *

Waking up the next morning, you should have been surprised by waking up so late. It was practically lunch time. But you were exhausted and for the first time in awhile, you felt well rested.

Stretching, you anxiously checked your phone for any new messages. A text from your parents saying they’re still enjoying their cruise in the Bahamas but that they’re thinking of you. Thirty-three messages in the group chat with your friends. Two missed calls and a voice mail from an unknown number. You checked it with hesitancy. It was a spam call about how the warranty of your car’s steering wheel was allegedly expired.

Letting out the breath you were holding, you tossed your phone on the bed to shower. You were safe.

* * *

The shock of hearing a knock on the hotel door made you jump. No one knew you were here and you weren’t expecting anyone either.

You hovered over the door, preparing to take a look into the peep hole but another, much louder knock scared you again. Tentatively you pressed your eye against the small glass. It was one of the workers at the hotel.

Opening the door with some hesitation, you said a small greeting. You had a delivery, he told you and you tried to tell him that he was mistaken but he pressed a full bouquet of red roses and a small package into your arms before turning around to leave.

Closing the door and locking it –you could never be too certain if they would come through with force– you looked at the latest gifts from your admirer. Roses, all in full bloom and beautiful. But despite their beauty, their presence disturbed you. You threw them away in the trash.

The package was wrapped delicately in red paper with a black satin bow. It looked suspiciously expensive. Turning the gift in your hands, you tried to guess its contents. It was lightweight and small, about the size of two palms. You unwrapped it slowly and with great caution. Some insane part of you thought of the possibility of opening it too quickly and inhaling anthrax. You wished you had a letter opener with you, maybe even a knife, at least a pair of gloves and a mask. You wished your hands would stop moving to unravel the latest offering they sent to you.

You dropped the package.

[ **Video** : _Date_ : ??/?? _Time_ : 13:45 _Location_ : hotel room]

> “This is the fourth thing that they’ve sent me,” you narrated as you slowly picked up the package. You had a dirty shirt wrapped around you hand in protection. The camera shook as you walked from the small hall and into the bathroom. You threw the present on the sink.
> 
> You zoomed in on the package, now unwrapped to reveal its contents. It was your underwear throughout the week. You even saw the pink ones you wore from the up skirt shot that the panty thief sent you. They were dirty and worn.
> 
> Picking up a pair, you held it to the light to examine them for any damage.
> 
> There were noticeable dried spots on the cotton and sheer fabric as well as discoloration.
> 
> “Is that…? That sick fuck.”
> 
> The hand that held your phone shakes as you realize what the pervert did to your underwear. You sifted through the other pairs, careful not to let them touch your skin directly.
> 
> “All of them.” You confirmed to no one but yourself.
> 
> A note caught your eye at the bottom of the box, as if the gift giver intended for you to go through the entire contents before throwing it away.
> 
> _Are you afraid now?_

As you disposed of your underwear in the trash, stuffing them in the crevices that the roses left, you went to throw away the rest of the gift. You stared at the trash for a bit, thinking about how whoever cleaned the room would think about the kind of person you were. Were the roses and used panties a sign of a bad romance? Were these the leftovers of some secret affair? You scoffed, feeling embittered towards everyone and the situation you were trapped in. This was hell.

* * *

Stupidly, you checked out of the hotel and left to go back home the next morning. You felt like one of those idiots in a horror movie, the ones who always check the area just in case and end up maimed or killed because of it. Despite your thoughts and despite your judgement, the call of your bed was too appealing.

Treading the threshold of your home, you entered cautiously, pepper spray in hand. Hawk eyes swept across the area and paid extra attention to your bedroom. Nothing was amiss. And disgustingly and too your horror, it actually seemed cleaner than how you last left it.

The clothes in your closet were still hanging as they were before and every pair of shoes had its match. You gulped. The last thing left was your underwear drawer.

Heartbeat an obnoxious and pulsating _lub dub_ that boomed in your ears, you slid the drawer open warily, mind undecided yet of what to expect. You pulled it open, nearly pulled it with enough strength to sweep it off its track.

There they were. Your panties perfectly arranged and color-coded, silks and lace were at the forefront whereas the less appealing but more comfortable cottons were in the back.

Pushing the drawer back with a slam, you ran towards the toilet to puke. Nothing came out aside the hideous noise of your terrified retching. You weren’t the type to be neat and organized, at least not like that.

They had been in your home, a fact that you tried to ignore and brush off while you were in the hotel. But now the fact glared at you from your panty drawer. You felt violated. You felt filthy.

You wished that they could have been a normal pervert at least. You could have handled catcalling. You could have handled a persistent suitor. You couldn’t handle whatever it was and couldn’t even stomach trying to take a picture or video of the drawer. You didn’t want to look at it again.

* * *

Tim smiled from inside his car, tinted windows hiding his identity. He watched from his phone as you undressed. It was slow and sensual as if you meant to tease. Tim knew better to than to think that it was anything less than exhaustion but the tantalizing sight of your bare flesh and the drag of your panties as they revealed your privates and fell down your legs was too erotic. This was a private show just for him.

With his pants already unzipped, he pulled out his throbbing member and balanced his phone on the dashboard. To the side of him, he grabbed a pair of your dirty panties, one that you failed to take into account. You wore them on Wednesday and Tim thought of the way the cotton clung to your curves and stuck to your lips. He took a deep inhale to breathe in your scent. He imagined what your cunt would smell like when it got wet only for him.

You were so cautious when he made himself known to you and yet here you were defenseless in the shower. Did you even think to check the bathroom mirror or the corners for any hidden cameras? You had to be doing this on purpose.

The strokes on his member were slow and deliberate, trying to match the pace of your show. The water made your body glisten and it was hot how the soap created makeshift lingerie with its lather. Tim’s hips thrusted into his strokes, as he thought of how tight you must be.

Your admirer’s moans were muffled as he shoved your panties in his mouth. He couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself. At least not now at such a crucial moment. His tongue swept over the delicate fabric that touched your pussy, trying to lick out whatever flavor might have been left over. His strokes were faster now with your panties gagging him.

He no longer focused on the video instead letting imagination run wild. Tim thought of you, dressed in mesh and lace that wrapped up your body as the perfect present. He thought of you and how tight you would be, body stiff and pussy clenching as he teased you with his fingers, flimsy thong tucked aside for access. He thought of how sexy you would look as you slowly eased into his touch –out of desire or out of giving up, he didn’t care. He couldn’t wait to give you his cock with relentless pounding and hearing as you moaned about how it was too big, too long, too much for you to take. Your panties would be soaked in your wetness, catching every drop of reluctant desire.

A muffled sigh came out of his mouth as he touched himself with greater intention, grip focusing on the tip of his leaking head. He thought of you in the lingerie he picked out, skin hot and breasts heaving after your orgasm. Tim thought of cumming inside of you and rolling your panties back up to make sure none of his gift was wasted.

He came in quick spurts that covered his abs and hand. Spitting out his gag, he used your panties to clean up his mess.

* * *

The warmth of the shower felt good physically but did nothing to ease your mind. You still felt dirty but your skin was already raw from vigorous scrubbing. The fluff of your towel as it wrapped around you did nothing to make you feel cozy.

You had your phone in your hand, finally gathering up the strength to take a picture of the drawer.

[ **Video** : _Date_ : ??/??/20 _Time_ : 22:00 _Location_ : your bedroom]

> The video started off with your feet, soft steps and carpet masking the noise. The camera was pointed towards the dresser on your left but quickly turned its lens to your bed on the right.
> 
> On your bed was a beautiful set of lingerie, a cardinal red in color, lacy and full of straps that crisscrossed. The bra cups were filled with mesh, clearly intending to show your nipples.
> 
> Rather than zooming in, you stepped closer to touch the material as if your eyes had deceived you earlier. You held the material with your free hand. It felt expensive and high-quality.
> 
> “Wear this tonight,” a masculine voice said from behind.
> 
> You gasped audibly before dropping your phone facedown, the screen dark and unable to capture the image of the one who’s been terrorizing you for weeks. Footsteps are heard as if they’re walking towards the phone, getting louder and louder until they finally halt.
> 
> The video stopped recording.

* * *

The police reviewed the pictures and videos on your phone for any evidence that could point to your disappearance. They didn’t want to bother trying to find a missing person. In a city as big and corrupt as Gotham, there were always missing people. Half the time, those reported missing just wanted an escape from this hellhole so they decided to leave everything they knew and start fresh. They figured that’s what happened to you.

The officers only obliged the request to do a welfare check on you because your bosses swore that you were a good worker, a total sweetheart and the girl-next-door-type. It was incredibly strange of you to not miss a day of work, even stranger of you to say that you were quitting in an email sent at 1am without a response back.

“It would be a shame,” your boss threatened, “If the Gotham Gazette got word of another officer failing to do their duty to the public.”

* * *

“Well?” Your boss asked the detective on your case impatiently. “Did you find anything? She has no other family out here, you know. Me and everyone at work feel responsible for her and are worried.”

The detective massaged his temples and looked at the ground, trying to find the right words to say it.

“Look, we couldn’t find anything on the phone that would make us suspicious of misconduct. It was all selfies, some pictures of what I’m assuming are you and her other coworkers and um…” The officer looked like he was struggling to find the words to say his last bit of information.

“I’m sorry, but I think they just wanted to leave everything behind. We couldn’t find anything that would point to her abduction.”


End file.
